


Popped

by runrarebit



Series: Misfits Moments [12]
Category: Misfits (TV 2009)
Genre: AU, Alternate Timeline, Anal Fingering, Awkward First Time, Awkwardness, Bottom!Nathan, Cherry Popping, Cum Play, Exhibitionism, First Time, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Spunk, Strip Tease, Way too many details about Nathan's post-death bowel habits- sorry, unexpected siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-21 15:10:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18704830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runrarebit/pseuds/runrarebit
Summary: Pretty soon afterDeath and the MaidenYou know that scene on the roof at the beginning of episode 2 of season 2? The one where Nathan's doing a very sunscreeny strip tease for everyone? This is set during that in my AU, except Nathan's also reflecting on the exciting developments of the night before-





	Popped

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for your wonderful reception of this silly little series of mine! I hope you're all having a great weekend!

Right now he feels the most sexually attractive that he has ever felt before in his life. It’s a fantastic day, sun shining, probation worker running late, all of them up on the roof and lounging around, enjoying the weather. Well, except for him, he’s _standing_ about enjoying it, but that might in part be because his arse hurts and every time he sits down he starts thinking about Simon fucking him and then gets pathetically horny. 

He is no longer an anal virgin. He has been de-virginised. He has been deflowered. His cherry has been well and truly popped. And, ok, maybe it wasn’t an overly dignified cherry popping of the type worthy of the best cinematography your average porno shoot can provide, but he liked it, and wants to do it again— Well, not the _cherry popping_ part, he gets the impression you don’t get another go-round on that one, but everything involved in the cherry popping— ok, maybe not the dying, resurrecting, then spending a couple of days almost shitting himself constantly part.

Simon was doing his gentlemanly best during that little experience. Sleeping at the Community Centre, fetching him food, helping him to the toilet when he was feeling a bit too weak and wobbly, putting up with the fact any sexual contact was pretty much out of the question— not just because he felt the least horny he had since that night when his sexuality decided to fixate on his boyfriend— but because his arse was out of commission since things were too busy trying to come out for anything to go in, and if he even thought about getting to his knees the urge to shit would have him back on his feet in moments. Simon had even gently rejected the proffer of a handie with the words, ‘When you’re feeling better,’ and a kiss to the wrist of the hand he’d half-heartedly tried to grope his boyfriend with. 

There had also been a lot of cuddling. Guess what! Turns out he’s also a total cuddle slut, who would have thought? Some of the best had been the ones where Simon had let him lie all over him while making high-pitched whining noises of discomfort in between trips to the loos. Not everyone would do that if they weren’t even getting a handie in return. Isn’t he a lucky fella in his choice of fellas?

Anyway, after the constant shitting had ended, and after he’d had a couple of days to get over the constant shitting, he’d decided his plan was back on. Time again to attempt to offer Simon his cherry. He’d even gone out and gotten another enema kit— not that he’d really thought he’d needed it, he’d been shitting water by the end there, but then enough time had passed that maybe things were building up again, and better safe than sorry, right?

So he’d waited for the others to leave for the day, then nice and pristine and clean and wearing his nicest clothes, bottle of lube in one hand, results in the other, he’d presented himself to his boyfriend and declared ‘Pop my cherry Barry!’ And then handed the lube and the results over in case Simon didn’t quite get the message. 

He had expected to be immediately jumped and maybe roughly deflowered against the nearest wall, the sexual frustration of the last few days overcoming his boyfriend and taking all his self-control. He hadn’t so much expected the gentle way Simon had taken the two items from him, said something about finding them in his locker after he died, and then started crying again. He’d panicked at that point, ended up fluttering around the other man, all, ‘No, no, no, everything’s fine. I’m fine. See, perfectly fine.’

Then Simon had grabbed him, pulled him into a tight hug, murmured something about ‘Don’t _ever_ do that to me again,’ totally ignoring his protests that he hadn’t meant to do it in the first place, and then asked him if he was sure. 

‘That I didn’t mean to die horrifically impaled on an occupational health and safety hazard in my own home? And! In front of my boyfriend. Hm, let me think for a moment—’

‘Not that,’ Simon had said, pulling back and looking up at him with very serious eyes. ‘I mean, are you sure you want to— you know. With me? Now?’

‘Oh, you’re asking whether I want you to pop my cherry! Of course I am. I’ve wanted you to for— well, maybe not during the last couple of days— but before that. Ages. I’m clean, see,’ he’d nodded at the results, ‘So we don’t even need condoms. You can just stick it in without worrying whether you’ll catch something.’

‘I wasn’t worrying that I’d—’ Simon began, before shaking his head. ‘That’s not important. Are you ok now? You’ve recovered from dying? I don’t want to hurt you— or do this if you don’t feel up to it.’

‘I’m fine,’ he’d reassured the other man, ‘The only time I shat at all today was when I used the enema to clean myself out so we can do this without worrying about _accidents._ ’

Simon had got a funny look on his face at that, and he’s honestly still not sure if it means that his boyfriend was grossed out or wanted to watch next time— doesn’t really matter to him either way. 

He’d almost thought this was it, he was about to get that cock he was so desperately craving, but then Simon had to pause and drag him into a discussion that can be boiled down to— Simon killed the girl who killed him, making him now a double murderer, and before they go any further his boyfriend needs to know how he feels about that. It’s kind of romantic, honestly, and it’d made him blush and feel a bit fluttery for a moment, before he got his head in gear and them back on the theme of cherry popping. He’d been pretty desperate for it by then.

Anyway, after that Simon had taken his hand and led him back up to his makeshift little nest, where he’d gleefully stripped himself out of his clothes and lounged across the shitty mattress in what he hoped was an alluring pose. At that Simon had hesitated, but he’d been able to see how hard his boyfriend was, cock bulging obscenely against the seam of his trousers, so he’d told that little voice to fuck off that had insisted that the other man didn’t really want him. ‘Come on Barry,’ he’d cooed, ‘Get your kit off so you can get in me.’

It took a minute for Simon to get with the programme, stripping jerkily with that awkward and embarrassed look he gets every time for whatever stupid reason. He’s got no reason to be ashamed, compact, sexy body, broad shoulders, massively thick cock. His eyes had gone straight to it, sticking out fat and hard from the nest of his boyfriend’s dark pubes. Just thinking about it makes him lick his lips, like he’d done then. ‘How about I give it a suck first?’ he’d suggested, sitting up a little and reaching for it.

‘I-I think if you do that, then we won’t get around to—’ Simon had gestured a little helplessly with the hand holding the lube.

‘That is an excellent point,’ he’d been forced to agree, flopping back down and spreading his legs, hoping his thighs were framing his own cock in a way that made it look sexy and appealing. ‘I’ll start getting myself ready, shall I?’ With that he’d sucked on a couple of fingers before bringing them down to his anus, trying to shift his body so Simon could see what he was doing as he circled the rim a couple of times and then pushed the first one in.

His toes had curled and his hips had humped up, loving the burn of it, the stretch, his boyfriend’s pale eyes fixed on that part of him as he’d pulled back and tried with two. ‘Lube!’ Simon had bleated, dropping to his knees beside him and fumbling with the bottle, the ribbon wrapped parcel of his results fluttering off to the side. 

When Simon had gotten the bottle open the man had immediately pointed it at his arsehole and squeezed out a _splat_ of cold lube. It had made him jump, but also it had felt weird and sexy to suddenly have all this slick to work his fingers with, and he’d ended up letting out this weird, high pitched little moan. Simon had echoed him, though his moan had been deeper and far more respectably masculine. 

Then there’d been another finger prodding at his hole, one of Simon’s thicker, shorter ones slipping in between the two of his own already up him. That was weird, and oddly sexy, and even more strangely intimate, touching Simon’s hand while Simon’s hand had been inside of him. There’d been a bit of squirming then while he’d tried to get Simon between his legs while the man was too busy staring, entranced, at his arsehole. He’d started to feel a bit weird then, kind of pinioned in place and nervy and weirdly embarrassed and like he was being looked at by someone (not Simon of course, but someone _else_ ) he didn’t want _seeing_ — without even thinking about it he’d reached down with his other hand and grabbed Simon’s wrist, the one moving back and forth between his legs. 

His boyfriend had flinched, eyes shifting straight to his face, words coming out fast and frantic, ‘Is something wrong? Did I hurt you? Do you want to stop?’

He’d shaken his head. ‘No, just—’ he’d squirmed again, hoping the other would be able to read his mind without him having to say it, when all that happened was Simon kept staring at him he’d sighed, ‘Get between my legs, I want to kiss.’ Not quite the truth, but better than “I need you on top of me or it feels like I’ll go out of my head.”

Simon had obliged, scrabbling over him awkwardly, finger still up him the entire time. He’d reached for his boyfriend the moment he could, pulling Simon down and licking into his mouth. Simon had moaned, finger twitching up inside of him, other hand cupping the side of his head, Simon’s weight on that forearm and not him. 

‘Come on,’ he’d breathed against his boyfriend’s mouth, ‘Give me another.’

Simon had, and then he’d stuck another one of his up there, until it was two of Simon’s and three of his, and he’d felt stretched out and stinging and hot and weirdly sexy. ‘I—’ Simon had pulled back, cleared his throat, tried to speak again, voice coming out _wrecked,_ ‘I think we need more lube. I don’t want to tear you.’

He’d nodded, reaching for the tube, Simon sitting up and snatching it straight from his hand. ‘Can you—’ his boyfriend had begun, pulling those lovely, slick fingers out of him even though it made him whine, holding them up and scissoring them open, ‘Like this. H-hold yourself—’

‘You mean—?’ he’d asked, pulling his fingers apart, feeling the walls of his hole go with them, until he was sure there must be a gape there, in the middle, a dark space just waiting for his boyfriend’s cock.

He’d felt his cock spasm, neglected, hard against his belly. He’d almost forgotten he had one, all his attention on his anus. 

‘Y-y-yes,’ Simon had stuttered, pale eyes wide and dark, fixed _there_ again. ‘Like that.’ With that Simon had brought the bottle of lube down, there, pressing the bottle’s little opening against his fingers, and _squeezing._ He’d jerked at the feeling of it, cold, slick, wet all up inside if him, hips dancing upwards, his free arm coming up over his face so he could mouth mindlessly at his bicep. 

‘Oh fuck Barry,’ he’d muttered against his own skin, ‘Put it in me.’

‘A-are you sure?’ Simon had asked, his reply coming before the man had even finished speaking. 

‘Yes. Now. I want your cock. Give it to me.’

Simon had edged forward, cockhead skidding across the back of his hand before he’d thought to pull his own fingers out, reaching for it, trying to guide it home. He’d felt it press against him _there,_ then pressure, then his breath had gone out of him and it had _hurt,_ burnt, and he was sure it wasn’t going to fit—

Then, out of nowhere, he’d been thinking that at least he was getting it for the first time on a bed, in missionary position— so better than at least half the girls around here— and he’d been thinking about Simon’s big, fat, _bare_ cock going in him, and if he _was_ a girl he might get pregnant, and then his thinking had gotten very strange for a moment, and worst yet it had just made him want it more. 

When he’d sort of come back to himself he’d been breathing weirdly, like a bird on the tv when she goes into labour, and Simon had been trying to pull back, a freaked out and embarrassed and _terrified_ look on his face. ‘Come on, keep—’ he’d muttered, trying to pull his boyfriend’s hips in closer, but Simon had resisted.

‘I can’t!’ the other man had bleated, ‘It won’t fit!’

‘I’m sure it will, we just have to—’ he’d replied, wriggling his hips a bit, and _there,_ the head had popped in and made him yelp, hips dancing between pulling away and pushing up for more. The sensation had been— he’s not sure what. Pain, pleasure, he couldn’t parse it. _Intense,_ whatever it had been.

‘Oh God, Nathan!’ Simon had yelped, trying to pull back again.

‘Keep going,’ he’d whined, the weird breathing starting up again the moment Simon had started pushing forward again. 

‘I’m hurting you,’ Simon had mewled, hips slowing. 

‘I don’t know what you’re doing,’ he’d cried out, helplessly, ‘But I want you to keep doing it. Come on, fuck me Barry.’

The first thrust had been jerky, hesitant, Simon stopping once he was fully in, resting there for a moment. It had felt— He still doesn’t know what it had felt like. Burning, mainly, but part of that had been the sting of the stretch, and part of that had been this glowing burn of the deepest pleasure he thinks he’s ever felt. Simon had pulled back, gently, slowly, and then begun a second thrust, and then that was it— his body must have panicked from all the confusing sensations it was feeling and done the only thing it could think of to do, because he’d yelped and came, spunking everywhere, without even a hand on him. 

His brain had completely whited out, his entire body closing around Simon’s like a beartrap, muscles twitching, thighs shaking. Somewhere, from very far away, he’d heard Simon bleat out ‘Oh God,’ and start shaking in his embrace, even more wetness joining the sticky mess already up inside of him. 

When reality returned Simon was shaking in his arms again, but that was because he was going invisible, and then _he_ went invisible too, because he was curled around his boyfriend at the time, and Simon was blathering out a bunch of apologies. He’d just wrapped his invisible arms tighter around his boyfriend’s invisible shoulders and sighed, ‘That was wonderful.’ 

‘B-but I didn’t last!’ Simon had bleated. ‘I came right away. And I hurt you! How can you say it was wonderful?!’

‘I came too,’ he’d pointed out. ‘Even before you did. And what does it matter? No one gets it right the first time,’ he’d leant up then, trying for a kiss, but mainly just headbutting his boyfriend. He’d managed to turn it into an affectionate nuzzle, so that was mostly a save, right? ‘I liked it. I want to do it again— and hey, next time’s bound to be even better, yeah?’

Simon had made a weird, throaty noise, then shuddered in his arms, the two of them becoming once more visible. The shuddering knocked loose Simon’s softening cock and a load of something slick, spunk or lube or both, and the sensation had been so strange and intense that he thinks it made him come again, just a bit. 

They’d kissed for a while after that, and then he’d wanted to just curl up together and sleep, but Simon had insisted they crawl out of the puddle of lube and their combined fluids and go clean up. As he’d stood up this trickle of cum and lube had slipped out of him and dribbled down his thigh, hot and ticklish, and he’d made a funny noise, soft cock twitching, and then Simon had come over all concerned until he’d lifted that leg to show his boyfriend the sticky trail oozing out of him, then Simon had made his own funny noise, looking hypnotised as he’d leant in and trailed his fingers up the rivulet, sliming it into his skin, until those strong fingers were back up between his arse cheeks, rubbing over his hot and throbbing and _sore_ hole, playing with the mess there. 

Simon had fingered him until he came again, pressing him up against the wall, rutting mindlessly against his thighs until he was even stickier. His own spunk slick across his boyfriend’s belly. 

He shudders just thinking about it, feeling his cock start to swell. It brings him back to the here and now, the lovely day, the lovely pain up his arse. His hole is still hot and swollen, he knows from playing with it in the loos earlier. Maybe he should let it heal up a bit, but he kind of wants it again. 

It’s funny. Having been fucked, cherry popped, is the reason he’s feeling so sexually attractive. He doesn’t quite get it. It makes him feel powerful though. He glances at Simon, leaning back in the sunshine and looking back at him. A little smirk comes across his mouth. He has an idea.

He slinks, or does his best to slink, over to the bottle of sunscreen his boyfriend brought up there all considerate like. For anyone that wants to use it. He wants to use it right now. 

He starts undoing the jumpsuit, slipping it down over his bare shoulders, head turning back every now and then to make sure Simon’s watching. It’s part tease, part _I’m yours so look at me, want me, fuck me,_ directed at his boyfriend, and part _aren’t I sexy? Well guess what, you can’t have me. I’m Simon’s!_ directed at the others. 

He gets down to his briefs, rubbing sunscreen over his legs, his arms, his torso, doing his best to be all sexy-like, playing with his nipples a bit, always meeting his boyfriend’s eyes, before spinning around, making sure his arse is pointing at Simon and not the others, and pulling the back of his underwear up into his crack like a makeshift thong. He wonders if the other man can see the edges of his anus, as red and hot and swollen as it is— like this it feels like it would be easy for Simon to just pull the fabric to one side and—

Alisha starts whining about him putting some clothes on and he’s just about to say something witty and no doubt cutting, when he hears a grunt of sound from behind him and then a pair of arms wrap around his waist and he’s pulled backwards onto a chair and into Simon’s lap. He finds himself cackling as his boyfriend struggles with his jumpsuit, trying to drag it back up his legs, all the while glaring heatedly at the others and snarling, ‘Stop looking! I can see you looking Kelly! Alisha! Stop it!’

‘Uh, take it up with your _boyfriend,_ ’ Alisha yells back. ‘He’s the one doing a striptease in front of God and everyone else who doesn’t want to see it.’

He reaches out, wrapping his arms around Simon’s neck, giggling at the desperate way the other man is trying to shield his body from everyone’s view. ‘ _Nathan!_ ’ Simon snaps, sounding irritated. 

‘Don’t be like that,’ he coos. ‘They can look but they can’t touch— But you can touch. Do you want to touch? We could go back inside and I’ll let you touch whatever you want.’

He hears his boyfriend let out an irritated sigh, just as someone down below shouts out ‘Oi!’ and then, ‘I’m looking for Nathan!’

He starts to pull away from Simon to see what this prick wants, but his boyfriend wraps his arms tighter around him with a growl. ‘You’re not going anywhere until you’ve got some _clothes on._ ’

A thrill of excited arousal shoots through him. ‘Oh, you don’t like other people eyeing what’s yours, do you?’ he wonders, a wide smile cracking over his face. How delightful! He stops squirming and lets Simon pull his jumpsuit up, which the other man does, face red and muttering something under his breath. It’s adorable. He leans in and steals a kiss, sighing as Simon grabs at him and immediately sticks his tongue in his mouth in a possessive fury.

At this point he hears Kelly let out an annoyed sigh, get up, walk over to the edge of the roof and shout down to the guy below, ‘He’s a bit busy right now, do you want to leave a message?’

‘I really need to talk to him!’ he half hears shouted back up.

‘Why? Does he owe ya money?’ Kelly shouts back. 

There’s a pause, and then he hears ‘No. It’s just— I’m his brother—’

_What?_ ‘What?!’ he yelps against Simon’s mouth, reluctantly pulling away from his boyfriend and stomping over to the edge of the roof. ‘I haven’t got a brother!’


End file.
